Blog Love Omega Glee: Never Marry A Poet (22 August 2012)

Officially, Jake is fired from his temp job of shepherding drunk delegates due to his role in the George George incident, but, since The Blackbirding Pressgang Agency still can't find anyone else to fill the last overnight position, they send Jake out again. Phil Intheblank, Jake's contact at the temp agency, says to tell anyone who asks that Jake's name is "Hank".

So, "Hank" shows up for work again at the Democratic National Convention. The security people by this point are used to seeing him so they just wave him on through the checkpoints. Jake sits in a bland hotel conference room and waits for a call, alongside a few of his fellow temps. Calls come in gradually and only Jake and one other temp, an elderly mustachioed white guy, are left. After finishing the newspaper, the old man gets up from his seat and starts pacing the room. "Do you want some more coffee, Hank?" he asks Jake, er, "Hank".

"Hank" nods and the old man disappears and a few minutes later returns with two cups of coffee. "Any calls, Hank?" he says.

"Nope," Jake says, taking the cup of coffee, "Thanks."

"Wait until the bars close, then I bet we'll get a bunch of calls. So what do you do normally, Hank?"

"I'm unemployed," Jake says.

"Yeah?" the old man says, his mustache dripping coffee, "I'm retired. The company I worked for skipped out on my pension plan though and the government's only paying half the obligation, so I have to do shit like this once in a while. So are you married or what, Hank?"

"Uh, no, I'm single. I kind of have a girlfriend though. Well, sort of, she dumped me, but I think we're getting back together."

"Huh? What does she do, Hank?"

"She's a waitress. She's also a writer."

"A writer! What kind of writer, Hank?"

"Um, she has a blog."

"Oh, that's good. She's not a poet, is she, Hank?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"One of my ex-wives was a poet. It was a nightmare. I couldn't take a shit without her writing a villanelle about it. I really don't want the rest of the world knowing my private life, but she stripped me bare. After she was done mining me for material, she left me for another poet. He could have her. They can write sarcastic sonnets about one another. Never marry a poet, Hank."

"OK," Jake says, "I'll try not to."

"The only thing worse is a Goddamn novelist. At least no one reads poetry. I wouldn't want to be a character in a novel, and have all those book club assholes analyze what was wrong with me."

The phone rings and the old man picks it up. "No, you've got to call the hotel for that. That's not in our job description. Call the front desk," he says and hangs up, "Some schmuck from New Hampshire locked himself out of his room. I'm surprised they don't call us to come wipe their asses, Hank."

The room is silent, and Jake takes a drink of coffee.

"So, what do you like to do, Hank?" the old man says.

"Uh, I do a blog too. It's about professional wrestling."

"Wrestling, huh? You know that shit's fake, right, Hank?"

"Hank" suspects it will be a long night.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Bloggers, Politicians, And Reptiles (21 August 2012)

Francine's scoop that Congressional Representative George George met with the newly-named campaign manager of the rival party's presidential campaign has caused a minor furor in the blogosphere which spilled into what's left of the mainstream media. The storm lasted about an hour in the news cycle and then was forgotten in the stampede of the latest scandal (a male senator came out as a crossdresser and gave his speech at the convention wearing a designer dress, pearls, and a wig--no one can remember what he talked about but he looked fabulous). However, the next day Francine still tunes into a news conference online to see what Vice-President Clinton, who supposedly brokered the meeting out of bitterness that hip-hop diva and current governor of California Frizkee Dallas was Senator Polipo's choice for running mate instead of herself, has to say.

Clinton, who wears a navy blue pantsuit, greets a phalanx of reporters, their microphones and cameras raised like hunters approaching prey.

There is much shouting, but the commotion dies down as Clinton begins to speak, "Good afternoon. I'd like to thank all of you for attending and for giving me the opportunity to clarify a few things. As you know, there have been a lot of rumors in the past day or so and I'd like to set things straight. You see, we live in an age where anyone has access to publishing, which is wonderful, but unfortunately a number of individuals choose not to exercise that freedom responsibly. Not like you folks, who are responsible journalists and media professionals. I'm talking about bloggers who gossip and spread lies. Now this has always gone on, but in the past no one paid much attention to what some crazy person on a streetcorner mumbled to her or himself. But nowadays those same individuals have a megaphone in the form of the Internet and now we have to take their ramblings more seriously. So, I'd just like to ask all of you to come talk to me and my office before you spread information about me that's not true. I'll now entertain questions. Yes, you there."

"Where did you get your hair done? It looks great," a female reporter asks.

"Oh, thank you. You know I just had it done by my regular stylist. She's great and she always does a great job."

Another female reporter, shooting a sharp glance at the first, asks, "Well, it is true that your hair looks nice, I think a more important matter is did you really arrange a meeting between Congressional Representative George and Louis Carson Fir, and, if so, why? According to the initial report by the blogger, it was to promise the congressman financial support for his campaign if he would agree to vote for the president if the electoral college came to a tie and the House of Representatives had to choose the winner."

"That's ridiculous. Even George has said there was no such meeting. Next question."

A male reporter asks, "But George just admitted today that he did meet with Fir after some cell phone pictures of the two together at the restaurant leaked out. So there was a meeting. The question is did you arrange it?"

Clinton looks dismayed, "No. Next question."

Another male reporter, "Are you bitter that Polipo didn't pick you as his running mate?"

Clinton glares at the reporter, "Next question."

An androgynous reporter says, "The blogger of the initial report said that she didn't believe the reason that George gave her for the meeting. She stated that she saw the meeting as confirmation of the fact that the two party system is a masquerade and both sides work together in order to guarantee that people will not have a real choice in government, and that we live in a plutocracy that tries to keep the rest of the populace distracted and ignorant. What do you say to such an accusation?"

"I try not to encourage people in their mental illness so I say nothing. Next."

A female reporter: "After insisting that there was no such meeting, George finally conceded that he did meet with Fir, and now says that he only did it because you leaned on him to do so. Is that true?"

"No comment. One more question and then I'm afraid that I have to go," Clinton says as she looks at her watch, "As you know, vice-presidenting is a lot of work."

A male reporter, "Do you still think that, and I quote, 'George is a snake, the type of awful snake that would be served in one of those restaurants in China where they serve awful things such as snakes like George'?"

"I never said that."

"No, of course you didn't, but I did, and I thought it was accurate to how you felt," the reporter says.

Clinton looks upward, apparently thinking, then looks at the reporter and says, "OK, go ahead and quote me on that."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.

Blog Love Omega Glee: The Shepherd Of The Drunk (20 August 2012)

"Yawn! Hello?"

"Francine? It's Jake."

"Jake? It's three in the morning!"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, but I think I have a scoop for you."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"No, it'll be sober in the morning."

"Sober? Are you drunk?"

"No, but the person I'm with is."

"Who's that singing in the background?"

"It's Congressional Representative George George of . . . hang on, I forgot where he's from. Where are you from again?"

Francine can hear a drunk man singing an off key rendition of "The Yellow Rose Of Texas".

"He's from Texas."

"OK, why are you with a congressman from Texas at three in the morning?"

"Temp job. The temp agency called me up and needed someone to work the overnight shift at the Democratic National Convention downtown. Apparently, they thought that because of my overnight experience as a d.j. I could handle it. That's what they told me anyway. But seeing as they called up at the last minute, I think they were just desperate. It's strange that in an area with so much unemployment that there are still a lot of jobs no one else will do apparently. I'm not even sure what my title is but basically I'm on call if any delegates need some help. I'm their local expert. My supervisor says on this shift I'm the drunk shepherd. Er . . . well, I'm not drunk but I shepherd the drunk. So the congress dude needed a ride home from Little Italy. He had a late meeting and couldn't remember how he got there or how to get home, so I got the call. I drove over there in my car--I get a mileage reimbursement so that's cool--but when I got there, he didn't want to go back to the hotel. He says he wants to party. He's really drunk."

Francine can hear yells of "Ms. Speaker, I'd like to propose that this house offer a resolution to rock the house! Where's the party???!!!! I want to party!! Ain't no party like a Texas party! 16th district! Woo!!!! Do they have donkeyshows here?" in the background.

"So you want to bring a drunk democratic congressman to my house to party?"

"No! He just told me he had a meeting with Louis Carson Fir."

"Fir."

"Yes, Fir! I figured you could interview Mr. George and find out what the meeting was about."

Francine hears yelling and Jake shushing George.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, we're pulled over, and he's propositioning some passerbys."

Francine hears George yell, "I'm in Cleaveland. I want a steamer!"

"He's trashed, huh?"

"Yeah, anyway, he's trying to get out of the car, so I've got to get moving. You know how I hate to talk on the phone and drive. Do you want to interview him or not?"

Francine sighs, and says, "Yes, thanks. Bring him to the all night diner at the rapid station in Believer Square. I'll meet you there."

"Cool! Will do."

"And Jake?"

"Yeah."

"Please don't tell me you're doing this just to see me again."

"OK, I won't tell you that. Er . . . I gotta go. He's crawling out the window."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.

Blog Love Omega Glee: The Devil Likes To Summer In Ohio (19 August 2012)

Looking out the screen door at Francine sitting in a ragged blue and white lawn chair on the front porch, Masani asks, "Hey, Hot Stuff, you want a cup of tea?"

"Only if it's iced and you just pour it over my head," Francine says, wiping some sweat off her forehead with the back of her right hand.

"It sure is a hot one, huh?" Masani says, stepping out on the front porch.

"The devil probably likes to come here on vacation because it reminds him of home," Francine says, setting the book she was reading, Bestial by William Carl, on the porch rail.

"Well, Youngstown has always looked a bit like Hell," Masani says, sitting down in the lawn chair next to Francine's, "What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you'd be downtown covering the Democratic convention for your blog."

"Uhhh, I probably should be, but I have to work tonight and I can't risk getting arrested because I refuse to stay in the 'free speech' zone a mile away from the convention. Michael's still mad at me about the other night."

"Oh, those customers you yelled at? Girl, you have to chill out," Masani puts her right hand on Francine's left forearm, "Just because people are mean, doesn't 'mean' you have to be mean back."

"Well, if you come up with a better idea of how to handle things, then please clue me in."

"You OK? The breakup still bothering you?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm just getting used to things," Francine takes a drink of water from the glass at her side, "How about you? I've noticed that you and Donald have been spending more time together lately."

"Have you?" Masani smiles, "Well, I should have known I couldn't hide things from little miss investigative reporter forever."

"Well . . . ?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

"So you have kissed."

"Hush up!" Masani gets up, "That sun's melting my brain out here. I don't know how you can stand it. Do you want a cup of tea or not?"

"Yeah, I'd love a cup of tea. Thanks," Francine says, picking up her book again.

"What's that book about?" Masani says, as she opens up the screen door.

"Werewolves in Cincinnati."

"Well, if I were a werewolf, I think I'd shave. It's too damn hot to be covered in fur today."

"Do you think werewolves use a lot of cans of shaving cream trying to fit into society?"

"Now I know this heat's melted your brain," Masani says, as she disappears inside.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Baby Wants His Dinky (18 August 2012)

Having finally conjured up the courage to email Francine about finding the weird zine in Screed, Jake relaxes by watching Grapple Groove. This week, the program opens with The Baby crawling to the ring, with his manager, H.C. Beaver, behind him pushing a baby carriage stocked with his feeding bottles and a few other objects good for hitting opponents with when the referee's back is turned.

Picture a three-hundred pound pale man with thick blonde curls, wearing white diapers, carrying a rattle and a ragged blue blanket, and sucking on a pacifier, and you have pictured The Baby. Not known for his technical expertise, The Baby remains undefeated, overwhelming opponents with his tantrums and the lead rattle or other foreign object Beaver tosses in the ring when the referee isn't looking.

Tonight, The Baby wrestles in a gender neutral contest, facing The Angry Housewife, a woman known more for her killer than maternal instinct.

Some nights, Jake wonders why he ever started watching wrestling.

Then The Housewife hits the ring and hits The Baby with an ironing board, and Jake remembers why: It's hilarious.

The Housewife chases The Baby, who suddenly moves from crawling to running full-sprint, into the crowd. He loses her there because she stops and tucks in the shirts of a few male wrestling fans, berating them for not grooming better. The Baby finds H.C. Beaver at ringside and hides behind her. He keeps crying and touching her breasts, seemingly requesting a feeding, but she smacks his hands away. As the referee starts to count both wrestlers out, Beaver sighs and gives The Baby a suck on his bottle and then pushes him back in the ring.

Also beating the count, The Housewife rolls into the ring, and cradles The Baby's head between her thighs, which she then drives down into the mat.

The Baby cries and the referee pushes The Housewife away in order to check on The Baby. While the referee is making cooing noises and babytalk to soothe the battered wrestler, The Baby reaches into the back of his diapers and pulls out some "poo poo", as he calls it, and throws it over the ref's shoulder onto The Housewife, who erupts in a rage at the poo poo staining her nice white apron. She pushes the ref aside and starts to shake The Baby violently. Then she takes The Baby over her knee and gives him a vicious spanking. Leaving him bawling in the middle of the ring, The Housewife climbs up the southwest post of the ring and leaps through the air, driving her elbow deep into the mounds of babyfat on The Baby's stomach. H.C. Beaver climbs up on the ring apron and the referee walks over and tells her to get down. While the referee's distracted by her arguing with him, Beaver kicks the rattle over to The Baby, who picks it up and swings at The Housewife. Unfortunately for him, she is no longer where she was, having also taken advantage of the referee having his back turned to retrieve a cast iron frying pan from under the ring, which, after coming from behind, she uses to burp The Baby by whacking it against his back. She burps him again by slapping him in the back of his head with the frying pan and The Baby takes a nap face first in the middle of the ring. She rolls him over onto his back and pins him. The referee turns and dives to the mat, slapping his hand three times against it and declaring The Housewife the victor.

After The Housewife has left, The Baby wakes up and throws a tantrum because he lost. He cries, "I want my dinky! I want my dinky!" until Beaver sticks the pacifier in his mouth. Then sucking on it, he is led out of the ring by Beaver.

As a commercial comes on, Jake has an epiphany that "this" is an anagram for "shit". Unsure of the significance of that discovery, he thinks about it until Grapple Groove returns, whereupon he forgets about it entirely, and, like The Baby with his pacifier, is content to suck on the tit of the tube.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.